The Revenge Artist

By Philip Hoy

Evelyn Hernandez is a high school junior who reads Shakespeare for fun, sews her own dresses, and keeps a sketch journal of her daily life. When Varsity quarterback Garvey Valenzuela breaks her heart, she sends him to the emergency room with a busted hand.

Add black magic to her resume...

Evelyn embarks on a dark journey of revenge when she discovers she has the power to make bad things happen by drawing them. Her emotional pain, isolation, and self-hatred lead her down a self-destructive path with dire consequences.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Evernight Teen
• Release date: Feb 12, 2016
• ISBN: 9781772336832

Book preview

Published by Evernight Teen ® at Smashwords

www.evernightteen.com

Copyright© 2016 Philip Hoy

ISBN: 978-1-77233-683-2

Cover Artist: Jay Aheer

Editor: Carlene Flores

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WARNING: The unauthorized reproduction or distribution of this copyrighted work is illegal. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, and places are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

DEDICATION

For Maggie and Erin … and Evelyns everywhere.

THE REVENGE ARTIST

Evelyn Hernandez

Philip Hoy

Copyright © 2016

Chapter One

Evelyn Hernandez knew what it was to be invisible, but this was different, this was being ignored ... being avoided. She tried to tell herself it was just her imagination. How many mornings had she walked through the halls of this school feeling exposed and on display? Knowing the redness of her lips, the blunt cut of her bangs, the pleats on her floral print skirt, everything down to the dark hair on her arms was being criticized by a hundred judging eyes. She wondered why they bothered, because the truth was, no one really cared. But there it was: a glance, a turn, a change in volume, a lull in some conversation as she walked by.

In first period, it had been hard concentrating on her painting. Even in the sanctuary of Ms. Shipley's, it felt like she had been on display in the center of the room, like one of those nude models, the ones Ms. Shipley said she had painted in college.

Second and third were even worse, and by the time she made it to Schwartz's, the tardy bell had rung and she entered the room a full minute late. She had been praying all morning that Garvey Valenzuela would at least have the decency to be absent today, but there he was, looking just as surprised to see her as everyone else. Too many sets of eyes stared at her in silence as she moved toward the front of the room and took her seat directly across from him at the table they shared. She immediately opened her binder against the edge of the table and slouched low enough to protect most of her face from his. There was obviously some kind of writing assignment on the board, but Evelyn couldn't focus to read it.

She had tried so hard not to think about this moment that she was completely unprepared. What should she do? Say something to him? Tell him how much he had hurt her?

Never.

What did she expect him to do, anyway? Whisper an apology? Laugh it off like a joke she should have been able to take? Ignore her?

What she could never have prepared for was the open hostility she heard in his voice when he finally said to her, I can't believe you even came to school today after what you did.

The contempt. That’s what did it. That's what it finally took to break his spell on her. She lowered her folder just enough to meet his eyes and let him see the hate she had there for him. He looked away. Determined to rip him out of her life, she pulled her sketchbook from her backpack, prepared to remove every page with a memory or picture of him on it. But when she opened it to the sketch of his hands, she stopped.

Never before had she considered destroying any of her drawings. They were memories, mere moments, yes, but more than that, they captured her life as she was living it. For better or for worse, this book represented all that she’d done. If she denied her mistakes, wouldn't she be doomed to repeat them?

But as she stared at the hands on the page before her ... the hands she had allowed to touch her, their creases and lines, their scars, their prints, almost more real on the page that captured them ... she did something she had never done before. She turned her pencil around and began to erase. Not too much, just a little, a few lines here and there, part of this shadow, the edge of that one. And then, leaning closer, the drape of her hair shielding her actions from prying eyes, she began to add to the drawing, altering and recreating it. She wanted to hurt him, punish him for what he’d done to her, and this was the only way she knew how.

Just as Evelyn completed her revision, the sound of Vanessa Galvan's voice from across the room brought her back to the moment. Hey Garvey, she said, loud enough for everyone in the class to hear, throw this away for me, please.

A wadded up ball of paper hit Evelyn hard on the back of the head. She flinched, but didn't turn around.

Do not throw things in this classroom! snapped Mr. Schwartz from where he sat at his desk. More than likely he had not seen it hit Evelyn.

Yeah, Vanessa! Garvey said, also for everyone's benefit. That's not the trash can.

Close enough, Vanessa said, getting a few laughs.

Evelyn remained bent over her drawing, teeth clenched, refusing to give either of them the satisfaction of a response.

I'll pick it up, Garvey sighed, playing the teacher's pet.

He got out of his seat and walked around the table to Evelyn's side. There, he bent over to pick up the ball of paper that had settled near her chair, saying with disgust, There's too much trash in here already.

She turned on him at that, tears of anger welling up in her eyes.

Now standing in Schwartz's usual place in front of the class, the center of attention, Garvey continued to entertain his audience. And the quarterback takes the snap! he said, backing away from Evelyn and imitating the movement with the paper as his football. He falls back, finds his receiver, and there's the pass! Lobbing the ball of paper high above his head, he jumped up, twisting in the air with hands open close to his chest to receive his own paper pass ... when somehow, he lost his balance and came crashing down on Schwartz's wooden podium and the frail table next to it.

Papers, books, pens, and pencils literally went flying as the podium spun and toppled, and the table was crushed beneath the weight of Garvey's body.

The class erupted into astonished laughter and applause, but a gradual hush came over the room as Garvey's cry of pain shifted from an embarrassed and genuine groan to hysterical screams of shock.

Everyone in your seats! shouted Schwartz as he maneuvered his way to the front of the room.

Garvey, struggling to sit up, had rolled onto his left side. His right arm was extended and supported at the wrist by his left hand. A brand new, freshly sharpened, yellow number-two pencil had pierced the center of his right hand, stabbing clean through and out the other side. The eraser end stuck straight up in his palm and the sharpened point protruded from the back of his hand. An impressive trick, Evelyn thought, except as Garvey held out his hand, blood began to roll down the bottom half of the pencil, gather at the pointy end, and drip messily onto the floor. A small puddle of red was already darkening the carpet beside him.

Schwartz sprang into action as Garvey rolled back, fainting. Frank! Go get security! Valerie! Call the office and tell them what happened and to call 911! Erick! Grab that roll of paper towels in the cabinet behind you! He knelt down beside Garvey, telling him to hold still, and then he took the injured hand below the wrist and lifted it up over Garvey's head. His other hand he wrapped around Garvey's bicep and squeezed, pressing his fingers against the inside of the injured arm.

The class was mostly quiet after that, waiting for the paramedics to arrive. Phones were out, silently documenting the event, but Evelyn didn't need a photo; she had her own picture ... only she had not remembered drawing so much blood.

Chapter Two

Two weeks earlier…

When Evelyn found herself sitting across from Garvey Valenzuela on that first week of October, she knew there was little hope of changing seats for the next four weeks. Mr. Schwartz was firm with his seating charts. His English classroom had tables instead of desks and he claimed to have a very purposeful reason for placing certain students together. He compared it to playing a game of chess. Whatever his motives, unless people became physically violent with each other, there wouldn't be any changing of seats.

It wasn't that Evelyn didn't like to look at Garvey—she did. From the front, from the back … she could stare at him for hours. He looked like a Calvin Klein model, the one pool-side in the white dress suit. Not the blond one, the one with the thick dark hair and the brown eyes. But as soon as he opened his mouth ... all was spoiled.

Facebook? she overheard him saying one day. I can't keep up with all that. If I'm even just a little nice to some girl, she wants to friend me an' all, send me pictures. I'll tweet. People want to know what I think, that's cool, but I don't got time to read their shit. Coach says I gotta worry 'bout scouts now. Gotta look my best, even at practice. What other guy's got that kinda pressure?

What a self-centered, conceited jerk, and from what Evelyn could tell, not very smart. He’d sat at the table behind Evelyn, talking with that fresa, Vanessa Galvan, all last quarter. Of course, she had something to add to everything he said. I know huh, you should change your settings. I mean, I don't want everyone knowing everything. I need some privacy.

That's what I'm talking about, privacy. It's like big brother an' shit. People gotta know everything.

"I have so many pictures of me and Bree and Izzy. Those are private. See, here we are breaking in Kevin's cherry new Mustang ... and this is at Ryan's kick-back last weekend ... huh? Now that's an only me. See what Bree is wearing ... or what she's not, I should say?"

Who's the girl in the back?

How should I know, some freak-skank trying to entourage.

And on and on, ad nauseam.

So when Schwartz told the class to introduce themselves to the other members in their new group, Evelyn was determined not to speak to Garvey or even look at him if she could help it, but as soon as he sat down across from her he stuck out his hand and formally introduced himself. Hi, I'm Garvey.

Evelyn looked up at him through her bangs. Evelyn, she said without lifting her head. But his hand stayed outstretched between them for an unbearably long moment until Evelyn finally gave him hers.

Nice to meet you, Evelyn, he said with two perfect dimples framing his smile.

She turned and smiled at the other two guys now sitting at the table. Garvey followed her gaze and greeted the two with a smooth lift of his chin and some kind of half audible guy-grunt, which they returned in a similar manner. Tito and Erick. The two were inseparable. Must be nice to get to sit with your best friend, Evelyn thought as she twisted around in her chair to make eye contact with Denise who had ended up on the other side of the classroom. Evelyn gave her a please-kill-me look. Denise just smirked and rolled her eyes.

Hey, I have a cousin named Evelyn, Garvey was saying. We're not related are we?

Evelyn turned back to face him. No.

Are you sure? She likes to wear dresses too, just like you. You know with tights or whatever. He made a motion with his eyes like he was looking through the tabletop at her pink stockings.

She instinctively pulled her knees together.

Have you ever done that? he went on, leaning forward. You know, liked someone and then found out they were related, your cousin or something?

No.

Oh ... My ... God, she prayed silently, please stop talking to me.

Schwartz made an exaggerated clearing of his throat to get everyone's attention. Okay! he said, Now that you've all had time to get to know each other, when I call on you I would like you to tell me three things you've learned about the person across from you. The class became noisy again. Evelyn, he announced loudly over the din, and everyone stopped talking and turned to look at her.

Perfect, she thought, how can this day possibly get any worse?

Stand please, added Schwartz. Nice and loud.

Evelyn stood, tugging down on the hem of her dress. His name is Garvey, she said, and then in one monotone breath finished with, he plays football, and even though sports and school keep him very busy, he still finds time to keep in touch with friends and exchange pictures on Facebook.

Garvey looked confused.

Okay, that's two things, said Schwartz. One more.

His name doesn't count? asked Evelyn.

No, that's too easy, he answered, obviously enjoying himself. One more ... something most people probably don't know about Garvey.

Evelyn sent Schwartz daggers with her eyes. He knows I can't answer that, she thought, I barely said three words to him. But when she opened her mouth it just came out. He once had a crush on a girl until he found out she was his cousin, she said and dropped into her seat.

Someone laughed abruptly, like the bleat of a sheep.

Evelyn stole a glance at Garvey, who frowned back at her.

Oh ... kay... said Schwartz. Garvey, what did you learn about Evelyn?

Well, her name is— He stopped and stood up.

Evelyn slipped lower in her seat.

Her name is Evelyn, he went on, she's an artist and...

Now it was Evelyn's turn to look confused. How could he possibly know that?

And she's always drawing pictures in a notebook she carries around.

Schwartz was nodding his head slowly, counting to himself while Garvey spoke. He stopped now, looking at Garvey expectantly.

And ... she likes to wear pretty girl's dresses to school because she wants to be original and have her own style.

He sat down again, flashing Evelyn his trademark smile.

Okay, thank you Evelyn and Garvey for setting the standard with those introductions, Schwartz continued. Now let's hear from someone in the back of the room.

****

It shouldn't have surprised Evelyn that Garvey had been aware of her before today. He had been sitting only inches away from her for the last four weeks, hadn't he? He had tripped over her backpack and knocked the back of her chair with his more than once, and he never apologized. Add rudeness to his list of faults. Still, what he said, that she was an artist, that she wore ‘pretty girl’s dresses’ to school, did surprise her. Unless they were trying to copy her homework, popular guys like Garvey Valenzuela didn’t pay attention to girls like Evelyn. She didn't know what to think.

What was that all about? Denise asked after class.

I heard you laugh, accused Evelyn.

Sorry, Denise said. But his cousin? Why would he even tell you that?

I have no idea.

Look. Denise nudged Evelyn with her shoulder. There he is.

Garvey and a group of his friends were moving toward Evelyn and Denise through the crowded hallway. People seemed to naturally get out of their way. And why not? Weren’t fresas just louder, more interesting, and better looking than everyone else? Evelyn recognized Vanessa from English class, whose friend Brianna De La Torre was hanging onto Garvey and laughing loudly. Were they a couple? Come on. Evelyn grabbed Denise's arm and pulled her down a side hallway.

Where are we going? asked Denise, looking over her shoulder.

We're taking a different way to class. Evelyn tugged harder.

But we'll be late if we go this way.

I don't care.

Fine, huffed Denise, picking up the pace a little. "I bet the fresas don't